


Legacy

by MaiKusakabe



Series: Legacy [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Post-Minion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4946857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaiKusakabe/pseuds/MaiKusakabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sengoku decided to track down the boy with the Amber Lead Syndrome, he did it because he didn’t want Rosinante’s sacrifice to go to waste. He never expected that keeping an eye on him would mean becoming a grandfather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my story for Law’s birthday :) It’s the first part of a longer project that I will post as a series of one-shots and drabbles.
> 
> I won’t write them in any particular order, which means I can post one where Law is 24 followed by another where he is 15, but I will tell you the timeline in the ANs at the beginning of each one and will place them in the right point of the series, so they will be in order there.
> 
> Warning: spoilers for Dressrosa, mainly Law’s past and chapter 798.
> 
> This story hasn’t been beta-read, so sorry for any mistakes.

“Are we sure then? They don’t have it?” Sengoku asked for confirmation, even though he knew Tsuru would never have told him in the first place if she wasn’t convinced about it. Still, this matter was too important —too _personal_ — to risk any kind of misunderstanding.

“It’s been six months already,” Tsuru said, reaching out to take one of the crackers from the plate on Sengoku’s desk. “There may be no outer signs of the operation, but if Doflamingo had really gotten his hands on the Ope Ope no Mi, someone would have eaten it after the operation was done on him. We have fought them three times since Minion Island, and we haven’t seen any sign of the fruit.” Here, Tsuru hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Also, as you already know, only one person aside from Rosinante is missing from the Donquixote Pirates, and I can assure you he wasn’t with them in Minion.”

“What are you suggesting?” Sengoku asked, even though he already knew. He had been going over the events from six months ago every free moment he had, and looking at them from different angles every time they received some new information. Or, more accurately, every time they _didn’t_ receive it. Because that was the main issue here: nothing had changed, they had no new leads. The Ope Ope no Mi had vanished and the Donquixote Pirates were the same as they had been before Minion island.

“You know what I’m suggesting.”

Sengoku closed his eyes.

“The chances of a small, sick boy getting his hands on one of the most coveted devil fruits in the world right under the noses of the Donquixote Pirates and managing to hide from them when Doflamingo had the entire island isolated are minimal at best.”

Tsuru shrugged and took a small sip of his tea.

“I know, but, at this point, we have already discarded all of the options that made more sense. I don’t know what happened, but if I had to guess, I’d say the boy finally realized he was in over his head, and when he discovered the Ope Ope no Mi could save his life, he risked everything to get it and escape from Doflamingo.” Like every time she was going to mention Rosinante, she paused for a moment. “I imagine that Rosinante being discovered probably gave him the time he needed.”

Sengoku didn’t answer. Tsuru hadn’t really _known_ Rosinante, she had heard about him from Sengoku, and they had met a handful of occasions while Rosinante was training at Marineford, and she didn’t know, either, that Sengoku had ordered him to stay away from Minion. But the fact was that Sengoku had known Rosinante very well. That, combined with the fact of how little Rosinante had told him about the boy with the amber lead syndrome, and the six months he had vanished before his death, made Sengoku think of a very different scenario. One he wasn’t sure how he felt about. On one hand, it showed how much of a good person Rosinante had been; on the other, it meant that Rosinante had lied to him and had most likely sacrificed himself willingly. That last thought was something Sengoku didn’t know how to deal with.

“Tsuru, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll take that vacation you’ve been insisting on.”

She waved a hand.

“Take as much time as you need, I’ll keep things running here. Just make sure you’re more relaxed when you come back; it wouldn’t do to have you work yourself to death.”

 

* * *

 

 

A month had passed already and, finally, Sengoku was close. He hadn’t thought it would be so hard to track down a kid, which, of course, had been stupid on his part, because if said kid had managed to evade the Donquixote Family for seven months, it meant he was _good_. It hadn’t helped that Sengoku hadn’t wanted to ask Rosinante anything about the boy. In his line of work, Sengoku had been forced to make some very questionable choices for the good of the world, and had long since learned that it was easier to live with the knowledge that innocents had been caught in the consequences of those choices if he knew as little as possible about those innocents. Back then, it had been easier to know the kid would die as a consequence of a decision the World Government he served had made a century ago if he didn’t know anything about him, if in his mind the kid remained as ‘the boy with the amber lead syndrome’ instead of someone with a name, a face and a personality.

He had paid for that decision when he had started his search.

It had taken a week of asking around Minion island for him to find a lead on the boy, but finally Sengoku had met the patron of a transport ship —who was still bringing shipments of construction materials to the island to fix the damage done to it— that, a couple of days after the incident, had agreed to take a boy to a nearby island on one of his trips. The man had been able to give Sengoku a general description: around thirteen years old, looked a little ill —Sengoku had managed to discreetly learn that, though pale, there had been nothing off about his skin— dark hair, wore a very distinctive white fluffy hat with black spots and had dark shadows under his eyes. Eyes that, the man had told him, were _creepy_ : he said they had made most of the crew feel uneasy. The kid hadn’t given them a name.

The boy had had some treasure with him, and that was the reason the patron had agreed to take him along.

After talking to the man, Sengoku had been reasonably sure it was the boy he was looking for, and had gone to the island he had been taken to.

Sengoku had spent nearly a week at that second island, correctly guessing the boy must have exchanged the treasure he had been carrying, until he had found the bank where he did it. The banker had looked nervous when Sengoku had talked to him, and some prodding had him confessing that he had tried to swindle the boy, only for him to intimidate the banker so thoroughly that the man had ended up giving him more money than the treasure’s actual value to get him away from his bank as soon as possible. Now, Sengoku didn’t generally approve of any means of extortion, but, in his opinion, anyone willing to take advantage of a child deserved to be put in their place.

From there, Sengoku tracked the boy through five more islands. He didn’t get a name, he was sure by now that the boy hadn’t given it to anyone —a smart move, having in account Doflamingo was most likely looking for him— but he had figured out the few patterns the boy followed. And he was _smart_. Most people, when they tried to hide, tended to go to the shadier areas of a town, places the authorities didn’t pay much attention to and where people didn’t care about others. Those were the same areas where Doflamingo had the most contacts, and also the ones the boy avoided. He stuck to the richer neighborhoods in any town where he stayed, and he didn’t stand out much. The hat was the main reason Sengoku had been able to find people who remembered him, and all the accounts were similar: a nice, polite and well behaved boy. It made sense that the boy could blend in well in these areas, given the fact that Flevance had been a very rich country, where children were brought up to behave in that manner, but, after three years with the Donquixote Pirates, Sengoku had to wonder how much of that behavior was a mere act.

Finally, after such a long search —it had been kind of invigorating, a change from his mostly desk-bound job of these days— Sengoku had finally reached an island where a fisherman had brought the boy mere two days ago, and he was reasonably sure that he would find him here. He had been wandering the nicest area of the port town for half of the morning when he caught sight of the white, black-spotted hat he had described so often these past weeks inside of an ice-cream shop. Given the fact that it was summer now, that hat stood out even more than it would have in winter.

Sengoku, dressed in his Hawaiian shirt and brown shorts, —he _was_ going incognito, and nobody would associate an attire like this with the marines’ fleet admiral— entered the shop, bought himself an ice cream and walked to the boy’s table, sitting on the empty chair in front of him.

The boy, back straight and spoon halfway to his mouth, had stiffened when Sengoku had approached, and was now staring at him, eyes open wide in recognition.

So much for going incognito.

At least this would save them some explanations.

“You’re Fleet Admiral Sengoku,” the boy stated unnecessarily.

“And you’re the boy with the amber lead syndrome.”

The boy stiffened even further, and looked around furtively to see if anyone had heard Sengoku’s words. Nobody was paying attention to them, though, Sengoku would never have voiced such sensitive information if someone had been.

“Do you have a name? I don’t like to keep calling you boy.”

After a month of chasing him around, finally seeing him in person and the information he had guessed about the events at Minion island and his connection with Rosinante, it was too late for caring as little as possible about him.

“Law,” he answered, and Sengoku was surprised at the lack of hesitation. “You’re here about Cora-san, aren’t you?”

Sengoku knew that Cora-san was how the kids from the Donquixote Family had called Rosinante.

“I’d like to know what happened, yes.” Law lowered his head, and Sengoku easily identified the emotion behind the gesture: guilt. “Did he tell you anything about me?” He was changing the subject intentionally, but he was honestly curious. He hadn’t expected Rosinante to have opened up about it, not when Law had a genuine reason to be angry if he learned he was a marine.

“No,” Law said, looking up at him. “I guessed. He didn’t want me to know. He thought I’d hate him,” he finished with a sad little smile.

Sengoku looked down at Law’s forgotten and half-melted ice cream.

“Why don’t we finish these and go somewhere more private to talk?” he suggested.

Law shrugged, but he ate the spoonful he had been about to eat when Sengoku had arrived.

 

* * *

 

 

Closing the door of his hotel room, Sengoku turned to see that Law had seated himself on the bed. Sengoku almost made a sarcastic comment about him making himself comfortable —it was his default reaction whenever Garp invaded his office— but he held the comment back in time. That probably wouldn’t be the best of ideas given their circumstances.

“What do you want to know?” Law asked, going straight to the point.

Sengoku raised his eyebrows. He was sure that most kids would be very nervous in this situation, but it was clear that Law wasn’t.

“Those six months Rosinante took off,” Sengoku started, going to sit on one of the room’s chairs, “were you with him?”

Law nodded.

“He said he wanted to heal my sickness. We went to hospital after hospital.” Sengoku didn’t have to ask how that had gone, the look on Law’s face was more than enough of an answer. He didn’t envy him the experience.

He moved on to the next question. Not that it would be easier, more like the opposite, but it would be better for both of them to have this conversation over with as soon as possible.

“He had already decided to go after the Ope Ope no Mi when he called him.” It wasn’t a question, but Law nodded all the same. It was a bitter pill to swallow, to have confirmation that Rosinante had lied to him after all. “What happened?”

This time, Law didn’t look down, but instead looked him in the eyes. His fists clenched on the sheets.

“He told me to wait for him as he went to steal the fruit using his powers, but he was caught after he had it and had to fight his way out. He was very hurt when he came back.” Law flexed the fingers of his left hand, and a small blue orb that encompassed his forearm appeared. “I tried to heal him, but I didn’t know how to use this power yet. He gave me a written message, said it was for the marines, that it could save a country called Dressrosa.” The orb disappeared.

Sengoku leaned forward.

“What happened to the message?” he asked. If Law still had it —because the message hadn’t reached Sengoku, which meant he hadn’t found a marine— maybe they could stop Doflamingo after all.

Law shook his head.

“I found a marine.” And, somehow, that answer sounded horrible. “But he wasn’t a marine, not really. He was a spy for Doflamingo. He beat us up and destroyed the message. Then he called Doflamingo.”

Sengoku’s blood had turned to ice. _A spy?_

“Do you know who that spy was?” he asked. He didn’t hold much hope for the answer, but the thought that Doflamingo had a spy in the marines…

“The first Corazon, Vergo.”

It was as if the ground had vanished from under his feet. If he hadn’t been sitting, he would have fallen to his knees. Vergo… _He had assigned Vergo to that mission._

“Do you know him?” Law, correctly reading his reaction, asked. “What will you do?”

_Kill him_ , was the first thought that crossed Sengoku’s mind, before his more strategist side started to work. If he killed Vergo or blew his cover, then Doflamingo would plant someone else, someone they might not be able to discover the same way they hadn’t discovered Vergo. If they kept Vergo around, however, they might be able to have some control over the information Doflamingo had access to…

“I’ll have to think about it.”

Surprisingly, instead of getting angry or throwing a fit demanding that Sengoku did something about Vergo immediately, Law just nodded, as if he understood the importance of strategy. Maybe he did.

“Doflamingo came after Vergo called him?” Sengoku asked, steering the conversation back to the story.

“Yes, but we got away while Vergo was on the Den Den Mushi. But Doflamingo used this technique that covered the whole island, so we couldn’t escape. Cora-san… he said he had a plan.” Law swallowed, and Sengoku saw the careful clam he had maintained up until now starting to crumble. “He put me in a treasure chest and used his powers so nobody would hear me.”

_Not even haki. Clever,_ Sengoku thought somberly. He knew very well the extent of the Nagi Nagi no Mi’s power.

“He said Doflamingo wouldn’t kill him because they were brothers,” Law continued, talking faster now, “but he knew it was a lie. Why did he lie?” Law asked, looking down at his lap.

Sengoku looked at him, not sure about what to say or do. When he had started this trip, he had had very conflicting emotions about the boy Rosinante had saved, given the fact that everything he had known about him was he suffered from Amber Lead Syndrome and greatly resembled Doflamingo as a child. But, looking at him now, Sengoku not only could see that whatever resemblance —judging by what Rosinante had told him about his brother as a child— was gone, it was also obvious how much Law loved Rosinante and how affected he was by his death.

Before he could come up with an answer, Law spoke again.

“I wonder if D had anything to do with him saving me.”

“D?” Sengoku asked, barely managing to keep his reaction under control after all the emotion he had experienced already. _Where has he heard that name?_

“It’s in my name. Cora-san showed me that he could speak when he heard me say it.”

_He’s one of them? No wonder…_

“Does Doflamingo know?”

Law shook his head again.

“Cora-san told me it would be very dangerous for me if he knew.”

“Good,” Sengoku said. _Probably the only good thing in this boy’s life right now_ , he added to himself, and was surprised at the bitterness of his own thoughts. “And don’t be stupid, it had nothing to do.”

“What?” Law looked up at him again.

“The D. Rosinante didn’t know anything about it, so don’t go thinking there was some reason why he saved you other than because he loved you.”

Law lowered his head again and bit into his lower lip. Sengoku pretended he hadn’t noticed the tears gathering in his eyes. He wasn’t so far from crying himself.

After a few minutes of silence, once Law had composed himself again, Sengoku spoke.

“What will you do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your plans. I’d offer you to come with me, but I have a feeling you’d refuse.” And Sengoku couldn’t hold it against him. If he were to make a list of people with legitimate reason to truly despise the World Government, he was sure Law’s name would be one of the first there.

Law scoffed.

“I’d never live at a marine base.”

“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“I’m going to kill Doflamingo,” Law stated, looking him right in the eyes again as he did. Sengoku could see he was deadly serious.

“What…?”

“Not now. I know I’m not strong enough, and I won’t be for a long time, but I’ll train and become stronger and stronger, until I can beat him. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Sengoku said when he had gathered his thoughts. “Rosinante would never ask or expect it from you.”

“I know, but I’ll do it anyway. To stop Doflamingo is what he wanted.”

Sengoku opened his mouth to argue, but closed it without saying a word.

_D, remember? Don’t waste your breath._

Sighing, he stood up and rummaged through his pockets until he found what he wanted. He hadn’t been sure of what he would do with this when he had decided to bring it along, it had been a spur of the moment decision, but now it seemed pretty obvious what he should do with it.

“Keep in touch, at least,” he said, offering Law the Den Den Mushi.

Law stared at it.

“That was Cora-san’s.”

“Yes. I kept his things.” Not that there had been much to be kept, only what Rosinante had been carrying when he died, but Sengoku hadn’t been able to throw anything away, not even the damn black coat that resembled Doflamingo’s so much.

Law looked up at him, a defiant expression on his face.

“And why would I want to keep in touch with you?”

“Because Rosinante gave his life to save you. I’d like to know his sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.”

Sengoku knew he had him even before Law raised his hand reluctantly to take the Den Den Mushi.

He suspected he would have a lot of headaches from now on.


End file.
